266 Bartinbee Road
by Kathleen T
Summary: A short inspired while I was walking down my own road: A pair of sunglasses are found upon the road and one individual can't resist their beckoning power. She sees things, she smells things and she hears things that convince her to kill...~R for Mutilatio


Disclaimer: I didn't really know which category this fic would have fit in, but I placed it here only because it wrote like something that would have been read in a Stephen King novel. The characters are my own and the plot is my own yadda yadda, you get the drift.  
  
Dedication: I dedicate this fic to Natalie and Amy, because without them, I wouldn't be living the best years of my life.  
  
Rating: I thought I'd rate this R, only because there's some mutilation and whatnot, so if you have a weak stomach and you don't like hearing about popping eyeballs then I suggest you turn back! But for the others: I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review! Thank you!  
  
266 Bartinbee Road  
  
The walls are so white here but I don't understand why. I see things.I've always seen things. Blood on my face, blood on my hands, blood on the walls and bodies everywhere. Why? I'm trapped inside of a body that just can't function but how can I feel the real me on the inside? Shouldn't it have been gone by now? So many years in this cement cage, so many years of people talking and talking..and so many questions still lingering in my mind. This wasn't my fault; it was the doings of a force that cannot be named on 266 Bartinbee Road.  
  
My life was better than, it was white and clean. I lived on a small street with yards that had glorious properties! Flowers and grass and trees.I was in a North American paradise. I would take walks, evening walks mostly and mingle with the other neighbors taking walks as well, but one night when no other living soul could be seen, a pair of dark sunglasses was laying innocently on the road. If only I had ignored the glasses, if only I had just walked away and thought nothing of it! But that just wasn't me.that just wasn't who I was. I took the glasses in my hands and stared into the blackened lenses. There was something there; maybe something was trying to stop me from placing those lenses upon my eyes, but I ignored it nonetheless. Once on, it was so dark, as if the whole world had fallen and I was left in a black room, a black room that smelled of.blood. I've never smelled blood this strong before and maybe my mind was only playing tricks on me. On the outside, a street lamp flickered and burst in an explosion of light, but I didn't see the light. I saw the dark. And then, as if a lightning had struck, light soon sprawled into every corner of a blood stained room. I gasped, almost fighting for air when I saw bodies gutted and strung from thin metallic wires. My fingers clutched at the black rims and I ripped the lenses from my face, gasping and choking for sweet, sweet air. I smashed the glasses to the ground, jumping away from them as if they were some deadly animal. I could feel my heart racing and my eyes growing wider by the second; so many visions! So many ugly visions! I embraced my head, closing my eyes and trying my hardest to squeeze those horrible sights from my mind but it did not prevail. I began to cry. Why? It was out of fear, out of shock maybe? I stood in the middle of the street underneath the dead street lamp. An eerie glow was cast upon those idle glasses and I blinked at them, perhaps expecting them to move. "Victor." I said, suddenly holding my tongue between my teeth. What did I just say? A name, a man's name at that, but why? I quickly turned my heel, starting off at a brisk walk towards home but something stopped me. It was an awful feeling mixed with complete bliss and I slowly turned around to peer at those blackened glasses. Not before long, I was headed home with a black pair of sunglasses resting gently in my breast pocket. They would be mine.  
  
I got home that night and I suddenly felt a wave of frustration cloud my thoughts. I was angry; I was angry at something but I couldn't for the life of me, think of what. I've never been angry in my life up on Bartinbee Road but for some reason, I was seeing red. I removed the glasses from my pocket and slapped them on the bed. I didn't remember removing them from the road and it was a weird feeling when I saw them again, but only for the first time. I wanted to put them on.I wanted to put them on so badly that I couldn't stand it. Somehow my memory of the visions had seemed to melt away in that short period of time and I placed them back on my head, waiting and watching inside of a stark white room. It smelled pleasant here, much like lilacs or honeysuckle but the rhythm of a machine or monitor was lazily buzzing in the background. My eyes scanned the room and nothing seemed to be standing out but I marched forwards, hearing the buzzing more readily now. Suddenly, a black spec motioned in front of my face and I jumped, wanting to touch this little object. It began to float away and I followed the spec, much like a child follows a butterfly. "Come back!" I laughed, soon tripping over a body, a dead body. I wasn't watching where I was running but now I saw what was ahead of my path. A graveyard, but absent of the essential ingredient-dirt. Bodies were laying in rows upon rows, some were reduced to bones but some were still decaying and all seemed to be awakening from their slumber. I shook my head, knowing that this was all a dream but one body had gripped my shoulder, looking deep into my eyes with its bloody sockets. "Victor." I whispered and soon clawed the glasses from my face. I woke up to the gentle hum of the washing machine two rooms over.  
  
The days went by and I didn't touch the likes of those lenses since that night, but their spirit never ceased to linger in the deepened lobes of my brain. I thought about them like a man thinks about sex, like a child thinks about chocolate.but I refused to pick them from the bottom of my drawer and look into their maddening world. A couple of weeks after I had found the pair upon the blacktop, I had returned to work after taking a few of my ever so loved sick days off. I was the manager of a privately owned furniture business, selling and buying antiques and whatever else I could find. But I was the only one working that day, after Janelle my employee, had taken care of the shop all week. I sat there at the cashier, filing my nails and primping my hair, but something felt different. I felt bold and spontaneous! It was an odd feeling, as if something was invading my mind and my body.And that's when Victor walked in. Now you're probably asking, how I knew that this man was named Victor. I didn't know, but something knew.something knew that this man's name was Victor Pearson. "Good afternoon." I greeted the man with a voice that scared me out of my own wits. The man eyed me, nodding and arching an eyebrow before browsing the sofa section. "May I help you?" I asked, stepping away from the cashier with a blue handled pen lodged in between my palm. "No." He replied, simply stepping away and continuing to browse. Victor was an averaged height; maybe a good five foot six and he had a large bushel of dark brown hair upon his head to match his brown cotton sweater. Something about Victor frustrated me beyond recognition. This frustration that I felt was much like that night when I returned home from my walk with my new pair of lenses and I wanted to end that feeling. That boldness that I was feeling only moments before had escalated at least a hundred times and I felt as if I could do anything, so I started with my pen. I closed in on the man and he turned around to face me, obviously feeling my presence behind his back, but I didn't let him speak, no.the pen spoke for me. With all of my strength I stabbed the pen deep and hard into Victor's eye, smiling with a certain pleasure at hearing it pop under the weight of my arm. Perhaps it was the screaming that set me off, or maybe the deep thrill that enthralled the whole situation but I kicked him back with a powerful hind leg, jumping him when he fell onto his back and hearing another sound, the sound of his back breaking under my weight. I was having fun, I do admit and I loved every second of the sweet terror plastered upon his dripping face. I then jabbed his other eye to render him blind, laughing deeply in my throat when the blood erupted from his socket, spraying my hot, pale face. The room was silent but its voice sang to me, it told me to cut the man down the center and hold his organs until they no longer pumped. I went home that night sighing and even humming sweet tunes. I was truly happy for the first time since that awful night. I felt free.  
  
The next morning I opened the store and immediately took in the stench of rotting meat and old blood. A weak being had replaced my body that morning and my knees trembled underneath my weight. Before me hung the body of Victor Pearson, gutted and strung along a thin wire suspended from the ceiling. I looked to the blood soaked tile and cringed at seeing his small heart slapped upon the floor as if it were some sort of meat preparing to be packaged. A gentle hum soon prevailed and I looked to my cashier, all spotless and clean and I saw the pair of sunglasses sitting there, as if they were smirking at me. I looked back to the bloody floor and blinked twice, clutching my chest after seeing Victor's heart beating at the speed of light. I closed my eyes and fell down to the ground, holding my knees tight to my body. "No." I whispered, rocking back and forth, but the humming had stopped and I soon felt my body loosen and become limp. I was happy.I felt happy again and I stood from the ground, eyeing the sight with a pleasant grin. That day I didn't open my store and spent the whole afternoon cleaning the floor, cleaning the sofas and cleaning my hands. There was blood everywhere! But I didn't mind, it came off with water and that was all that mattered. Throughout the day my eyes would continue to travel back to my cashier where the glasses stood, all innocent and sweet. I wanted to wear the glasses and feel their cool frame against my cheek and by the time that the cleaning was finished, I held them in my hand, cradling them as if they were a child of my own. The voice that had become so familiar soon returned and those lenses were now swimming in the pools of my blackened eyes. A black hallway with white walls soon came into view, but the walls weren't completely white, they had stains upon them.stains of what? I approached the walls and stood inches from their surface, examining handprints etched in blood, scattered every which way. I touched one of the hands, hearing a terrifying, yet pleasant scream erupt from the back of my mind. I touched another handprint, and yet another scream, of a man this time, surged from the depths of my soul. I walked the hallway, touching each and every handprint and growing stronger with each scream that entered my ear. Was this Hell? If this was Hell then I would have been afraid of what Heaven was like. Something stood at the end of the hallway, and for some odd reason, I felt it was my next mission-to find this person. I began to jog and my shoes clicked noisily against the hard tile flooring and the figure grew nearer and nearer and. The woman stood in front of me, with dark green eyes, a head full of blond curls and a worker's vest reading, 'Venus and Co. Furniture Warehouse'. The woman then smiled in a cynical way, waving a boney arm and pointing her nametag. 'Stephanie' is what her name read. I was Stephanie. I pulled my lenses off slowly this time, staring into the blood stained walls of my shop that I spent so long in cleaning and polishing. Frustration soon won and I screamed, ripping at my hair. I grabbed my sponge and my cloths, cleaning the room in a veracious manner, not caring what or who was gathering in front of my shop window. The force that swallowed me that night wanted me dead, and I was killing myself. I was killing myself slowly and gradually.  
  
.  
  
And how did I get here? Here in this white walled cement room? My mind has shut many of its chambers to allow myself to think internally and only to myself. I sit here like a vegetable and drool, watching the world go by on wings of the butterflies. They took me in that evening, when I was busy washing the walls. They said that they found Victor's body in the dumpster and that I told them that my sunglasses killed him. Funny. It's funny how everything can seem so right and in the blink of an eye, things can turn so sour. They said I didn't struggle and it was almost as if my brain turned off as soon as I was put in that ambulance. I'm here now, and forever will be, but where have those sunglasses gone? The ones with the black rims and the dark black lenses. We can only hope that they didn't fall into the hands of any human alive. 


End file.
